


You Betcha

by ladyxboheme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, Comeplay, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Het, Spoilers for 9x13 The Purge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:53:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyxboheme/pseuds/ladyxboheme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hanscum was smart. And sweet. And his age. And was still getting over her divorce. And Dean was a reeeeal shit head for even letting his mind go there, no matter how cute she was in her little pink spa pajamas or how badly he wanted to taste the small of her back when she flashed it innocently at the two “agents”, or how much her dimples made him smile right back at her."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Betcha

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless filthy smut because I have the HUGEST crush on Sheriff Donna Hanscum. This is un-beta'd and rough, and my tenses are all over the place as per usual, so forgive me. Hope you enjoy none the less.

Dean tossed the keys to Sam and let him handle Maritza. Deep down he knew letting Maritza go was the right thing to do, and he felt like an ass for having suggested otherwise. But the past week had fucked with his head, and though he'd never admit it out loud, when things were off with Sammy, Dean was off all together. He hadn't been sleeping much, he hadn't ingested much more than booze and roofie pudding, and his judgment had been off in all sorts of areas. So he didn't mind getting a bit of alone time in the now monster free spa. That brief time after a case before a new one reared it's ugly head, Dean always felt the most at ease. And no matter what bullshit was at the back of his mind over Sam, he refused to let the time alone go to waste. Except for how he didn't feel like being alone.

He knocked on the door of Sheriff Hanscum's suite, half expecting her to be long gone by now. But a muffled “Yah?” came from within, and suddenly Dean felt supremely dumb. What was he doing? So what if he was lonely and so what if he'd been endeared to the Sheriff from the moment she offered him a baked good – she wasn't some waitress who was dumb enough to buy that Dean was 29 that he could get away with never calling again. Hanscum was smart. And sweet. And his age. And was still getting over her divorce. And Dean was a reeeeal shit head for even letting his mind go there, no matter how cute she was in her little pink spa pajamas or how badly he wanted to taste the small of her back when she flashed it innocently at the two “agents”, or how much her dimples made him smile right back at her. She didn't need some skeeze coming on to her right now, but Dean was already here and he'd feel just as stupid if he bolted. So what could some friendly conversation hurt?

Dean cleared his throat before calling “It's uh – it's Agent Simmons. I was just checkin' in?” The question mark sneaked in there without Dean's permission. A couple of days after giving Sam shit for being weird around girls and Dean is acting like a complete spaz. Because you know you should leave her alone you big perv, his conscious supplied and he thought about shooting his own conscious in the fucking kneecap. Then the door opened and Sheriff Hanscum's dimples were blaring at him. Her hair was down, gold and wavy around her shoulders, and she wore a denim jacket and an adorable dress that flowed around her hips in a way that made Dean want to grab them even more then he had before. 

“Hey there Agent,” she chirped, “Where's Agent Frehly?” 

“He's uh, just dottin' some I's and crossin' some T's. I stayed behind to wrapped stuff up here.” 

“Oh yah, yah, sure,” she nodded. She stepped back and gestured across the threshold, “Well come in, I was just packin', ya know,” and sure enough there was a small suitcase on the bed.

“So not stickin' around huh?” Dean asked as he followed her into the suite, closing the door behind himself. “It sucks you waited so long to come here just for all of this to happen.” Dean mentally kicked himself almost immediately. While it did suck that her trip was ruined, Dean didn't think she needed to be here in the first place, regardless of monsters. 

The sheriff just chuckled. “Yah, well. The whole thing was kind of silly anyhow, I don't know what I was thinking. I mean 10 lbs in a day? Crazy killers running around or not, that crap can't be healthy right?” She said it lightly but even with her back half turned as she folded her clothes, Dean could see her cheeks flush. Dean wanted to see that adorable pink blush run all over for reasons way more fun than embarrassment. He snapped out of the thought when she continued speaking. “Besides, who cares what Doug thinks, ya know? Doug's long gone! And was a giant douche canoe to boot, so's...” Dean can't help but laugh at that, and though she's still blushing she manages a smile in his direction. “I don't know why I'm telling you all this, geez, I'm sorry. Did you need anything else from me for the case, Agent?”  
“No,” Dean answers, and the bluntness of his tone makes her eyebrow arc. She turns to face him all the way and he sees her gun holstered under her arm beneath her jacket and is instantly even more attracted to her than before. “And, it's Dean. My friends they- you can call me Dean.” 

Her eyebrow is still twitched upward, like she's suddenly accessing Dean very critically, and yet she still smiles. “Donna.” 

“Donna,” Dean repeats, leaning back against the suites vanity, and crossing his arm and giving her the smirk that he physically can not stop himself from giving to every single person that he wants to win over. 

They smile at each other for a long moment, both silently reading the other, before Donna seems to come back to herself, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and zipping her suitcase. “So what are ya doin' here then Dean?”

“Just wanted to thank you for your help, and to make sure you were alright.”

It's not even a line - potentially sleazier intentions aside, Dean had been genuinely concerned for her, and not just because there had been a killer on the loose. It had blown his hair back to hear her so down on herself the day before. Maybe he was just a sucker for a girl with a gun and a sweet tooth, but Donna Hanscum did not seem like the kind of gal who had any reason to have low self esteem. Before he'd heard about douchebag Doug, Dean had seen nothing but blonde hair, brown eyes, and curves he was willing to brake for. 

He fortunately had the sense not to say any of that out loud even when she scoffed and said, “Oh now. Of course I'm alright! I am a sheriff after all, s'not my first day at the rodeo.” 

“I know, I know,” Dean chuckled, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I just meant, ya know. In general.” 

Donna moved her suitcase over beside the door and then slowly walked in his direction. Dean forced himself to stay still like a spooked deer. She stopped within arms reach and mirrored his crossed arms. “Yah,” she said softly. “Actually I'm real good.” She smirked and knocked the toe of her boot against his. 

“Good,” Dean said, and beyond his better judgment he reached out and tucked another stray strand of hair behind her ear. It was softer than he'd even imagined.

“Ya know, Dean,” she said with a laugh. “I may be real outta practice with this sorta thing, but my deductive skills still win out – and if I had to wager a bet I'd say you were flirting with me a wee little bit.” 

“Well, see,” Dean said back playfully, encouraged by her pleased tone, “It's detective work like that that's made you Sheriff.”

She laughed and stepped even closer, “You betcha.” 

“Donna,” Dean started, “do you maybe wanna go grab dinner wi-” but that's all the farther Dean got before Donna grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled his mouth to hers.

When their lips crashed together Dean groaned and Donna squeaked as if she surprised even herself, but neither paused before kissing each other with equal hunger. Dean wrapped an arm around her waist and crushed her body against his. His other hand buried in her hair and he marveled at how soft she was – her blonde curls, her sweet lips, her full breasts, her cotton dress – everything was so soft and warm he wanted to drown in her tonight instead of whiskey. She sucked his bottom lip between her own, worried it gently with her teeth and he fought to keep from panting. He was rock hard for her and he pressed it against her stomach shamelessly. She clutched at the front of his shirt, hands balled into little fists in the fabric, while Dean's hold around her waist slipped lower and he palmed the curve of her ass. She arched against him, lifting a leg slightly against the outside of his thigh, pressing her center against the hardness of his groin. He could feel how hot she was even through their clothes. It made his head swim.

With one more hard suck on her tongue that made her whimper, he spun them around until her luscious ass pressed against the vanity and tore his mouth away. “Fuck,” he panted against her lips, “Donna, we don't have to – I meant it about dinner and -” 

She rolled her eyes and smiled before gripping him by the short hair at the nape of his neck. “That's real sweet and all, but I'd rather stay in and for you to just keep using that sweet mouth of yours, whatta say?” She giggled when he nodded mindlessly, and swooped in to take his lips again. He grabbed her ass in both hands and lifted her onto the vanity, perching her there before running his hands up her thighs and trailing kisses toward her neck. 

“You like my mouth, huh?” he whispered against her ear.

He felt her nod quickly and pant out “Oh yah.”

“Good,” he smiled against her jaw, “so whatta say I stay in and eat out, hm?” 

She let her head fall back and laughed loud and breathlessly at his horrible pun, and he laughed against the soft curve of her breast as his mouth slid down and he unceremoniously tore away her panties. He fell to his knees and spread her legs, never looking away from those sweet brown eyes that looked down at him, wide and dazed. He sat one of her feet on the back of the vanity chair and tossed the other over his shoulder, pushing her skirt up around her middle and breathing hot wet air against her lips. She was dripping wet and smelled so good, tangy and salty and sweet like strawberry margarita. He felt her legs shaking before he even touched her, the anticipation enough to make her tremble and for her eyes to slip closed. He ran the tip of his tongue gently up and down her folds, just to tease, just to taste, and he heard her head thunk gently against the mirror behind her as it fell back. His finger followed behind his tongue, gentle strokes on her outer most lips. “So nice and wet for me already,” Dean growled, more to himself than anything, still slightly stunned that someone as sweet and adorable and normal as Donna Hanscum would give him the time of day, let alone let him hike up her skirt on a hotel vanity in the middle of the day. It was somehow more of a porn fantasy than when he had actually fucked an ex-porn star. 

She huffed out a laugh and said “Don't get a big head now or nothin', but I've been wet for you since I saw that pretty scruffy mouth go to town on that powdered sugar.” 

Dean pressed his tongue against her swollen little clit before sucking it between his lips. She gasped and clutched at his head with one hand, and he suckled on her for a minute before pulling away to murmur, “You taste a million times better.”

Donna whimpered a quiet “Fuck” before Dean slid a thick calloused finger inside her and she moaned long and loud. Dean moaned against her too – she was so fucking tight and hot and wet and he needed to be inside her ASAP. But her noises were addicting, these sweet little whines then these guttural growls, and Dean wanted to hear every single sound he could possibly drag out of her first. He bent his finger, rubbing insistently against that sweet spot inside her, while he sealed his lips around her clit, sucking and rubbing the flat of his tongue against her roughly. “Oh Dean, fuck yah,” she whined, her voice getting higher and accent getting thicker as her climax built. Dean nearly came in his pants when she demanded “Fucking harder”. He gripped himself through his jeans and obliged, adding a second finger and fucking her hard with them until she screamed. He heard things clatter off of the vanity and onto the floor as Donna's muscles locked and she clutched at the wood beneath her with both hands. She gushed against his hand, and he felt her flutter and clench around his fingers so tight that he thanked a God he knew wasn't there for giving him the chance to feel it. Usually he'd keep lapping gently at her as she came down from her high, but he was to amped up and he stood on shaky legs and reached for her. But she put a hand on his chest before he could grab her, and took his hand and brought it to her mouth. He watched in stunned silence as she drew his wet fingers between her lips, and sucked her own cum off of them with a wanton groan. The same woman who just yesterday grinned at him in pink pajamas and a side ponytail now stared at him hungrily, hair wild and chest heaving as she tasted herself. Dean started thanking every God he'd ever met, even the asshole ones. 

“Mmm, I do taste good,” she said with a smirk, knowing full well she was driving him up the damn wall, “Do you taste this good Dean?” She asked sweetly before grabbing his belt. Dean's eyes might have rolled back into his head a little bit. 

He pulled her off the vanity, grabbing her by the face and kissing her roughly, and started guiding them to the bed. “You can taste anything you want to. Later. Right now you need to be way more naked and way more horizontal.” 

She laughed and helped him as he began tugging off both of their clothing. He winced slightly when he heard both of their guns clatter to the floor loudly, but then she was pulling her dress over her head and he gawked as she unclasped her bra and let it drop. “Boots, come on,” she urged, snapping him back to attention. He nearly face planted into he floor, trying to toe out of his shoes and pants at the same time, while never taking his eyes off her. Donna laid back against the pillows, her hair fanning out around her. He climbed over her and settled between her thighs, taking a moment just to look down at her in the dimming daylight. She looked up at him and ran a hand along his jaw, scratching against the beard he'd been too lazy to deal with as of late. Then her hand trailed down to his tattoo. “Oh, cute,” she said with a giggle. He took the hand that was drawing patterns around the ink at his chest, and kissed the palm of her hand before pinning her wrists to the pillows. He ducked down and kissed at her neck, her collar bones, laved at her hard pale nipples. His hips rocked against her idly, the head of his cock teasing against her entrance.

“You got anything?” he mumbled against her chest, still lapping at her breasts.

“Huh?” she said in a giggly daze, and then “Oh! Oh cripes,” she huffed. He lifted himself up to look down at her furrowed brow. “Really Dean? Who brings condoms to a weight loss spa, are you kidding?” He couldn't help but laugh but he scrambled off the bed back to his jeans, fishing out his wallet and pulling out a haggard condom packet.

“Uh, what's the expiration on that thing?” she asked as Dean crawled back toward her.

“Don't worry, it's not like it's been there since 8th grade sex ed. I've gotten around a little bit since then.” he jokes.

“Oh yah?” she asks with a chuckle. “So do you plow every local cop you meet on cases?” 

Dean knows she's just teasing but he still lowers his face back to hers as slowly and as sweetly as he can manage. He kisses her nose, then her lips. “Nope. Just the rare incredibly sexy ones like you.” And even after everything, she still manages to blush.

He sits back on his knees and tears open the condom. He is about to put it on when Donna sits up and takes it from him, rolling it slightly over the head of his cock before looking up at him mischievously. She leans down to wrap her mouth around him and unrolls the condom all the way to the base with her lips. He nestles for a briefest moment in the back of her throat, before she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard as she pulls off. He curses colorfully then pins her back down onto the pillows. She looks supremely proud of herself as he presses his forehead to hers, growling slightly with lust and frustration. She wraps her legs around his waist, and her soft skin is touching him all over. She's like a classical painting, flowy hair and perfect pale curves, and he feels extremely full of himself to get to be nestled against them. He laces their fingers together where her hands rest on either side of her head, and he buries himself deep inside her with one slow slide. She whimpers into his neck, and her legs clench around his middle ever so slightly, and he holds himself still. Not only for her benefit, since he doesn't know how long it's been for her and if she needs to adjust, but also for his sake. He presses his face into her hair and takes deep breaths, smelling her shampoo, and tries to calm down. Winchesters are not two pump chumps, and he does not want this to end too quickly. 

After a moment he feels her squeeze his hand and he pulls back just far enough to take her lips again. They kiss and sigh against each others mouths as he rocks back and forth, still buried deep inside her, just slow deep friction between their sealed bodies. Then he pulls back to nibble on her ear and whisper “How do you want it Sheriff, hm? Want it like this? Want me to grind into slowly like this until I know what every single inch of you feels like from the inside? Or do you want it hard? Want me to slam my cock in and out of you until you scream?”

She let's go of one of his hands and throws an arm over her eyes. “Oh, geez. Shut up will ya? Shut up and fuck me hard. Fuck me like you're not afraid to break me.” 

Dean has never been so eager to obey a police officer in his entire life. He puts his weight back onto his haunches and grips her thighs just beneath the back of her knees. He bends her in half, knows just how to bend her to hit the perfect spot inside over and over and over. When she slides a hand down to rub her clit, Dean picks up his speed ten fold, and the room is filled with the filthy sound of their skin slapping together and of Donna's loud cries. He doesn't even know if she can hear him over everything else but Dean can't stop the litany of filth falling from his mouth. How fucking good she feels around his cock, how beautiful her ass looks as his body slaps against it, how he wants to watch those beautiful pink tits bounce for him all day. He sounds like an idiot but he doesn't even care. Every single thing about Donna is an overload to all of his senses and he wants her to know. Wants her to know how perfect she is. 

He knows she has came at least twice on his cock, quick little lightening storms of muscle spasms and hoarse screams of pleasure, but it's not good enough. Dean guides Donna's hands to the back of her knees, makes her hold herself open wide and bent in half. With her knees tucked against her chest and beneath her arms, he laces their hands together once more, locking his arms straight and putting all of his weight into the force of his thrusts. It's exactly what she needed. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her mouth open wide in a silent yell. Her pussy squeezes tight around Dean like a fucking vice, and she gushes like a waterfall, far more than when his mouth was on her, and Dean thinks Jackpot. He untangles them and quickly eases his weight off of her and has to grip the base of his cock to keep from coming. Even as he grips himself he slides in and out of her soothingly. Her body is still twitching all over and her gasps for air are nearly sobs after such an intense orgasm. Soon though she comes back to herself, and says “Holy crap!” with an exhausted chuckle. He smiles down at her, sliding back inside completely yet gently and leans down to kiss her once more. “You're not done with me yet, right Deano?” she murmurs. He picks up his pace yet again, and he can tell she is purposely squeezing herself around him as she talks “Go on, fuck me. Fuck me 'til you come. But be sure to pull out in time. I still need to taste ya.” 

With that filthy command Dean barks out a loud “Fuck!”, rears off and out of Donna, and whips off the condom. She sits up lightening fast, just in time for him to unload all over her chest and just a bit on her mouth. He milks himself dry onto her skin, and she smiles up at him, lazily licking his cum off her bottom lip. His whole body sags with exhaustion, still kneeling between her legs as she props herself up with one hand behind her. Her free hand cups one of her breasts, and lifts it up towards her mouth so her tongue can reach the cum all over her chest. She licks it slow with an evil glint in her eye as he can do nothing but watch and whine pitifully, his spent cock twitching against his leg. “Mmm, you taste good too.”

He tackles her backwards, lands on her with dead weight and nuzzles against her neck to make her laugh. He grabs the throw blanket at the foot of the bed with his toes and drags it up with in reach, covering them up and gathering her in his arms. They lay in silence for a while, catching their breath and occasionally laughing over nothing. Eventually she says “You're leavin' town soon ain'tcha?” 

He doesn't answer at first, just watches her profile as she stares at the ceiling and plays with her hair. Finally says, “Yeah, 'fraid so.” 

She turns her face towards him and smiles that sweet dimpled smile. “Listen here. I'm gonna give you my number, but I ain't stupid or nothin'. I know I'll probably never see you again, but I can handle that. I'm a big girl. No pun intended.” She giggles at her own joke and he playfully scowls at her and prods her in the ribs in punishment. She just giggles some more and waves her hand dismissively. “I'm just jokin', just jokin'. But say you ever do come back around these parts and you want some fun, you'll know who to call,” She looks back at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I think that's what I deserve for a while. Some fun.”

“You deserve whatever you want. And I will GLADLY take that number.” He kisses her cheek and she smiles to herself. “Now about that dinner...” Dean said as his stomach growled audible. 

She laughs and heaves a loud put upon sigh. “I'm too tired for all that nonsense, how about room service?” 

“Uh, I don't think they have room service here.”

Donna made a loud PSSH sound as she crawled over Dean and reached for her jacket on the floor. “Well then I'm ordering some Indian Food, and the spa can just bite me.” At that Dean nipped playfully at her side while she laid across him, and she squealed. 

He kissed where he bit her and then mumbled against her skin, “Then after that... you can be my dessert?” 

She twisted around, her cellphone in hand, and straddled Dean's lap. With a dimpled grin she purred “Oh you betcha,” and take out was forgotten for a moment while they slowly kissed.


End file.
